International Affairs
by Optimistically-Hopeless
Summary: Interaction between countries is not all fun and games. No matter what, someone will always get hurt. A compilation of short stories of how the countries deal with modern day issues. Rated T for language and politics.
1. Greatest Ally

Alright, so this is the first installment of International Affairs. I've wanted to do this for a while, seeing as the world is and has been going absolutely insane. Some of the stuff I say in here might be controversial, but I think I'm okay with that. I'm what some Democrats might call a 'Right-Wing Extremist,' so I'm used to a lot of my opinions being shot down as 'wrong.' Besides, I like hearing other peoples' opinions—it widens my view on the world. Who wants to be narrow minded?

Anyways, I hope you like it! And even if you disagree with me, review! As I said, I like hearing other's opinions. Really, as long as you aren't rude and don't flame me, I'm fine with what you have to say.

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"_We don't have a stronger friend and stronger ally than Nicolas Sarkozy, and the French people."_

_-President Barack Obama, 2011_

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"Get out."

The ability to speak escaped America as he stared at England, trying to think of how to resolve the situation. It used to be so easy to talk to England, so easy to just be himself. But the look of pure malice directed towards him made it impossible for words to form correctly. How could England look at him like that? How could he think that he had meant for any of this to happen? How the hell could he think that he had _wanted _this to happen? Clenching his fists, America summoned all the strength he could find within himself as he spoke.

"I don't want any of this!" America said, feeling his fists quiver in anger. "I haven't chosen to do any of this! It's all been my boss! He's the one who's getting close to France, _not me_!"

"If you didn't want it," England hissed, glaring at him with such vehemence, America seriously thought he'd burst into flames from his hatred, "then why don't you do something about it, Mr. _Hero_?" The last word was spat out, actually making America flinch with the cruelty contained in it.

"Arthur, he won't—!"

His sentence was suddenly cut off by England grabbing him by the collar, roughly pulling him forward so their faces almost touched. "Don't you _dare_," he growled fiercely, "call me that name, Virginia Company."

The name sent a horrible chill down America's spine, a hatred he had never known to be possible held within them. England wasn't even considering him a nation anymore—he was calling him a colony; he was calling him nothing. He felt tears well up in his eyes, but he forced them to stay contained. No, he wasn't going to show such weakness in front of England. "I don't want any of this," America whimpered, his chest tightening with sadness. Why couldn't England understand this? Why couldn't he understand that he was doing all that he could? "Please, England, you have to believe me. He won't listen to me or the people. He's just doing whatever he wants. I've tried, but I can't do anything."

England didn't lift his glare, only letting it begin to smolder him. "You're pathetic." England shoved America away from him, grabbing the handle of the door. "Go run back to France, you little whore."

England made to slam the door, but America swung his foot between it and the door frame, causing pain to shoot up his leg. He sure as hell wasn't going to give up that easily, and England had to know that. "Listen to me, dammit!" America hissed, now glaring back at England with an equal amount of force. "I am trying to make him stop! Haven't you been listening to news at all? People have been protesting, people have been telling him to stop! But he won't listen! He—!" His next point was cut off though as England leaned against the door, putting more pressure on his foot. "Aah!" America yelped, trying to now wedge his foot from the door. "E-England! Stop it and listen!"

"_Stop telling me what to do!_" England roared, shoving against the door harder—hard enough for America to literally feel something try to shift in his foot.

"_Gah! England!_" he cried, the tears in his eyes on the verge of escaping because of the pain. "S-stop it! Let go!"

England kept himself pressed against the door, a horrifying glare on his face. "I have been there for you since World War II," he growled, his green eyes full of malice. "I helped you during the Cold War, during your slumps. I was there supporting you when you were nearly killed on September 11th! I cried with you; I went into war with you! I have done so much for you, and you betray me by siding with that son of a bitch France?" England removed the door from America's foot causing him to almost fall over. "What the hell has he ever done for you?"

His foot was in excruciating pain, which now served to make his anger more ferocious. "He helped me in the Revolutionary War. He got me away from you, and you know what?" he hissed, not caring how much England hurt—he had just tried to break his foot for Christ's sake. "I'm starting to remember why I left. Because all you are is a spiteful, hate-filled, stupid old man!"

As soon as the words had escaped his mouth, America desperately wanted to take them back. The rage on England's face faded, a solemnity replacing it. "Is that so?" he said, his voice deathly quiet. "Well then. I won't be in your way anymore." England stared at him in a mournful way, making America's chest feel like it was being crushed. "You can consider the Special Relationship a thing of the past then. I won't be a bother to you any longer."

America wanted to scream, wanted to beg for him to just listen. But not a single word was able to leave him before the door closed, a definite click audible as it locked. Numbness took him over, nothing making sense for what felt like an eternity—this couldn't have just happened. No, this can't be real. But feeling came crashing back to him as he realized that this was real. Everything was so damn real. He limped back to his car and slammed the door shut in time to keep his sobs muffled from the world.

Inside the far too empty house, England had collapsed against the door, his face buried between his knees as tears rolled down his face. He hated him. He hated America so God damn much! How could he do this to him? They had been allies, had been friends, for so long. A choked sob escaped him as his stomach twisted in pain. He would always be hated, always be alone. That was his fate in life. He had been an idiot to ever think otherwise.

It was over.

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:( Me no rikey… Okay, so just a little fact checking/clarifying. _Technically_ the Special Relation is not null and void—it still exists. For the purpose of the story and creative license, I had them say it was over. Besides, emotions are high, and you say silly stuff when you're angry. :P

So, I only have a few ideas of what to do for chapters. I'm thinking of broadening world events, including things that aren't quite "modern" like the Cold War and such. I live in America, so affairs pertaining to us are the ones I'm most familiar with. Those across the world, give me your ideas! What current events are there that irk you or that you would like to see with Hetalia characters? Let me know, and I'll do what I can! :D

Thanks for reading and please review! :D


	2. Euro Crisis

Thanks for the favorites and the reviews everyone! :D I'm glad that you like it so far! :) Just so you know, every chapter is going to be on different countries. I might come to revisit certain things later, but it's going to be switching from person to person.

So, I hope you like this chapter! Please review!

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"_While Germans have spent a decade making the sorts of painful reforms that have turned them into the model for how to run a rich nation, Greece and Italy have used the privileged borrowing position they enjoy as members of the euro zone to avoid the hard work of cleaning up their economy."_

_-Rana Foroohar, Times Magazine November 2011_

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Finally enjoying some silence, Germany's forehead was pressed against the cool surface of his desk, trying to cool down his quick temper. So much had been happening, and he enjoyed these few precious moments of serenity as much as he could. He sometimes hated how he had to be the mature and responsible one, how he had to try to be an example for all of the other countries, how he was always the one given all of the hard work because he was the only one able and at all willing to do it. And somehow, in all of Europe, he was the only one who knew how to actually run a financially fit country.

Countries all around him were going bankrupt and seeking any money or handouts they could get their hands on. Greece had been in trouble for quite a while, but he was often too lazy to care about what he had to do to fix it. Even as people were revolting in the streets, Greece would tune it all out in his house as he played with his cats or as he slept like his country wasn't falling apart. Germany often wondered how he had managed to remain a country for so long, seeing as he never did anything of real importance.

France wasn't doing much better. He tried to have an air of peace and make it look like he couldn't care less about what was going on, but Germany could tell that he was becoming nervous. His credit rating had been downgraded, seeming to shock him, like he hadn't seen it coming. He had been too busy gloating about how he was doing well as America and England slipped into recessions to think about himself slipping into one. It hadn't taken long for him to go from rubbing his success in their faces to him being in the same exact position as them.

England wasn't under the euro, but, even as he was in a recession, he was still rather smug, always saying, "I told you bloody gits so!" He had always been against it, and was always telling them how idiotic they were for deciding to have it as their currency. Though, perhaps they would have listened to him more if he hadn't been so incredibly rude to them about it.

But out of everyone, one country was doing the worst and having the most effect on the situation. The one country that was the third largest euro zone and was dragging them all down.

And that one country at that moment burst into the room, once again ruining Germany's few moments of peace.

"Germany!" Italy cried, looking much more worried than usual. "Germany, please, I need help! My debt! It's… it's really bad!"

Slowly, Germany straightened up in his seat, making sure his fine blonde hair was still lying flat on his head. "What is it now, Italy?" he said tiredly. The country always looked worried nowadays with his debt going nowhere but steadily up.

Italy sniffled, tears in his eyes. "Germany… Germany, I really, really need help! I can't pay off all of this debt! What am I supposed to do?"

_How about you stop annoying me about it?_ Germany thought bitterly to himself. _How about you, for the first time in your entire existence, figure out something on your own?_ "A good way to start," he said as calmly as he could, "is to stop spending money nonstop. Start saving some so you can pay back your debts."

Italy actually opened his eyes, pain evident on his face. "You know I can't do that! I have to keep spending! I can't just let people down like that! I have to keep paying everyone their pensions, and I have to keep programs running and—"

"Cut programs," Germany cut in coldly. "If you don't need them and cannot afford them, stop paying for them."

"Don't make it sound so easy!" Italy cried desperately. "I can't do that! I don't want—!"

"Do you think _I_ wanted to do half of the things I did?" Germany fired back, feeling anger quickly rising up in him. "Italy, it is not easy, but it must be done! If you keep going down this road, all you will be met with is failure!"

"But Germany!" Italy yelped, more tears evident in his eyes. "I'm too big to fail! Everyone's been saying it! I can't possibly—"

"_Verdammt!_" Germany yelled, making the small Italian jump. "You idiotic _Scheißekopf!_ You are not too big to fail! You are going to collapse if you don't stop spending money! You keep asking people to bail you out of your problems, but you can't do that now! _Your debt is too big!_"

Italy stood there silent for a few moments, absolutely still. "I don't want to hurt my people," he murmured silently, Germany almost not able to hear him. "I'm trying to help them. I really am. But everything I do just…makes things worse. I don't know what to do…"

Germany once again asked himself why everyone had to come to him for help. Why was the only one able or willing to do anything to help? "I'm willing to help you make better decisions with you money," Germany offered, trying to lower his temper. He hated hurting little Italy, but there was sometimes no other way to get through to him. "You need to learn responsibility before you can even think of lowering your debts."

Italy's face looked worried. "It sounds scary. Money is scary. Money makes people scary. I don't want to hurt my people; I want to make them happy."

"Then get out of debt," Germany stated. Italy looked like he was about to try to argue his point, but Germany continued. "Nothing makes people happier than having a good economy and not having to worry about money or whether they're going to be able to afford food for the next day. Don't get out of debt for you; do it for your people."

Italy stood silent, Germany able to see the thoughts running through his head. He still looked scared, still looked uncertain, still looked utterly desperate. But he simply nodded. "Okay," he said. "For my people. I'll do the best I can, for them."

The two remained silent for a while until Germany nodded. "_Sehr gut_," he said, standing up. "Then let's go and begin to figure out all that needs to be done." Germany began to walk towards the door, signaling for Italy to follow him. But before he knew what was happening, Italy threw his arms around him, burying his face in his chest. He went stiff, still hating bodily contact with anyone. "_Vas?_" he said, staring down at the clingy Italian.

"Thank you," Italy sniffled, clutching Germany tighter. "Thank you so much. Thank you for never leaving me."

Cautiously, Germany laid a hand on Italy's head. "No," he said softly, thinking back through all they had been through. "Thank you for never leaving _me_."

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Fluff! :) I do love the relationship between Germany and Italy in real life. Germany always watched out for Italy, and Italy watches out for Germany. :D So cute! X3

Anyways, please review! I'll love you if you do!


	3. New START

I'm glad that people like this story so far! I'm also glad that people are learning about things too! I'm learning plenty now as well from your guys' reviews and my own research. I hope that I can keep you guys entertained!

As always, if you guys have any suggestions for chapters, let me know! I'm happy to take ideas and learn even more! :D

I hope you enjoy it! Please review!

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"_Information about every Trident missile the US supplies to Britain [was] given to Russia as part of an arms control deal signed by President Barack Obama…. Defence analysts claim the agreement risks undermining Britain's policy of refusing to confirm the exact size of its nuclear arsenal."_

_-Nile Gardiner, The Telegraph, May 24, 2011_

"_The fact that the Americans used British nuclear secrets as a bargaining chip also sheds new light on the so-called "special relationship", which is shown often to be a one-sided affair…"_

_-Matthew Moore, The Telegraph, February 2011_

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America could not even begin to describe how much he _did not like_ Russia. Since before World War Two, their relationship had been extremely strained. There was just something about the Russian's purple eyes that seemed to always be plotting, those hands that always seemed at the ready to crush his windpipe. There was nothing America could find that could make him even think to try and trust him. There had been too many times where Russia had tried to kill him or his allies. All of the trust that could have been gained was lost a long time ago.

And this was why America was so confused as to why America's boss thought it was such a magnificent idea to become best friends with Russia. What was he thinking? Had he ever learned about the little thing called the Cold War? The Cuban Missile Crisis? The Red Scare? There were so many reasons for America to never trust Russia, yet his boss was all for them becoming friends.

Trying to keep his annoyance to a minimum, America straightened out his bomber jacket over his suit, about to enter the room before him. The door wasn't even open yet, but America could still feel the chilling presence of Russia just beyond the wooden barrier. He really didn't want to do this; he wanted nothing more than to tell his boss to call it off. But he knew his boss too well—he wasn't going to call it off no matter what. So, begrudgingly, America opened the door and couldn't wait to get this stupid meeting over with.

In the room, both his and Russia's bosses were seated, looking like they were having a nice little conversation. Russia looked like he was having a fun time listening to them talking as he looked up to meet America's glare. "_Privet_, comrade," Russia greeted happily. America was able to see through that smirk though—Russia was up to no good. He was just trying to act nice for his boss, trying to look good to America's boss. Russia was plotting something, and he knew it.

"Don't call me comrade, commie," America answered, slitting his eyes. He felt his boss give him a disapproving glare, but he didn't care. He wanted Russia to know that he hadn't fallen for his trick. He knew better that to trust the slimy bastard.

"Alfred," America's boss said, pointing to the seat next to him. "Sit. We're here to make peace, not bring up old transgressions."

America hated it when his human name was used in front of Russia. It was so personal, a part of him—it didn't deserve to be used in front of the likes of him. Forcing himself not to just turn around and leave, America plopped down in the chair, not once removing his stare from Russia. "I'm sorry for his rudeness," America's boss quickly said. "He doesn't forget things as well as he should."

America shot a glance over at him. "I've told you to stop apologizing for me," he growled, crossing his arms tightly. "I didn't do anything wrong when I fought this commie bastard. He's the one who was trying to kill us."

His boss returned the glare. "We are trying to make a peace treaty, the New START Treaty, and all you're doing is bringing up the past."

America glared. "Weren't we taught to never forget our past, lest we be doomed to repeat it?"

"Alfred." The use of his name chirped in Russia's innocent tone made shivers run down his spine. America turned his head, trying to resist the urge to jump over the table and punch him in the face. "Why don't we be friends, _Alfred_? We could benefit so much from each other. I could give you more than that worthless Brit of yours."

A line had just been crossed. Getting loud complaints from both his and Russia's bosses, America hunched over the table and grabbed Russia by the scarf. "The only damn reason I agreed to come to this meeting," America hissed, "was because I was told it wouldn't involve England; that it wouldn't harm him. So don't you dare even compare yourself to him, damn commie."

Russia didn't flinch, didn't even look worried. His smug smile remained on his face, staring right into America's eyes. "Oh?" he hummed, calmly twining his fingers together like this was a normal conversation. "Well, the only reason _I_ came to this meeting was because I was promised that all of the information on England's Trident missiles would be provided to me if I signed the treaty." Russia calmly turned his head to look at America's boss. "Isn't that right, Mr. President?"

For a moment, the words didn't quite click in America's head. England's Trident missiles; all of the information about his nuclear war heads. Russia was going to get all of that if he signed the treaty? America turned his head to look at his boss. "You can't be serious," America murmured.

"It was the only thing we could do to make Ivan agree to the terms of the agreement," his boss explained. "We are trying to have the rest of the world lower their nuclear threat by giving up some of their war heads."

"Oh yeah," America hissed, "because this bastard's _never_ lied to us before." No, he hadn't lied during the Cuban Missile Crisis, hadn't lied at any time during the Cold War. No, he certainly didn't lie every time he opened that damned mouth of his.

"It is time to move on," his boss said. "If this is the only way we can have peace, then so be it."

America stood still for a moment, not able to believe what he had just heard. His boss was going to betray England, their strongest ally, the person who had always been there, for this damn commie? Filled with anger, America released Russia's scarf and turned on his heel. "Screw this," he spat. "No way am I signing it. No way in hell." He listened to his boss's complaints as he left the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

He would never betray England. Ever.

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By the time America had arrived back home, his boss had tried calling his cellphone at least ten times—and all ten times he called, he ignored it. He was so pissed off right now; how could his boss have lied to him like this? He had said that England was going to be left out of it! He had said that nothing they would do would in any way hurt England. But giving up all of England's nuclear information to Russia of all people was just asking for trouble! Had his boss forgotten all about the Special Relationship? Had he forgotten how England had always been there for America, no matter what? Had he forgotten how many times Russia had tried to kill them? How could he think that any of this had even been close to a sensible idea?

America's phone rang again, and he was about to pick it up and tell his boss just what he could do with that damn peace treaty of his. However, the caller ID was something he had not been expecting.

It was England.

Quickly, America answered. "S'up, England?" he greeted. This was odd—England rarely called him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

America's brows furrowed at the question. "What?" he asked, extremely confused. England sounded angry; incredibly angry. He had no idea why England would be so angry at him of all people.

"Don't act stupid, bloody wanker," England hissed, making America jump slightly. "Why the hell are you giving classified information to Russia? It's idiotic to give him your classified information. But giving _my_ information to him? Who the hell do you think you are?"

America went quiet, his whole body going cold. "W-what?" he stammered, clutching the phone tightly. "What do you mean? You can't be saying…"

"All of the information on my Trident missiles is being given to Russia!" England yelled, making America pull the phone away from his now ringing ear. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

"I didn't sign it!" America answered desperately. "I didn't sign it, I swear! I told them there was no way I was going to sign it! You have to believe me!"

England paused, anger emanating from the silence. "It's rather hard to trust someone who's betrayed you." Before America could respond, England hung up with a definite 'click.'

The phone rang in America's ear, the line disconnected. For a long time, he just stood there, not really able to believe what had just happened. They had signed it. They had signed it without his consent! He had been completely against it, and they had just shoved it through anyway!

Not even calling to warn him, America rushed out the door and to his car. Oh, did he have plenty to say to his boss. He didn't care if he was busy, he was going to listen to him, and he was going to listen to him _now_.

He would never betray England willingly. And he wouldn't let anyone else either.

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This still ticks me off so much. I mean, Russia hates our guts, yet we're all like, "Yay, be our friend! We love you!" No! And Obama is, by far, the most Anti-British president we've ever had. Yay, there's nothing better than trying to befriend our enemies and pissing off our allies!

Anyways, enough political ranting from me. You get that enough from me already! XD

So, I hope you liked it! Please review! :)


	4. Icelandic Depression

Thanks so much for the support so far, everyone! :D As I always say because I'm a nervous wreck when it comes to stories, I thought I'd be having someone jumping down my throat by now telling me how my opinions suck. XD I'm just glad that hasn't happened yet…and hopefully won't! :D

Credit for this chapter goes to my best Norwegian friend **M. Cullen Hightopp** for educating me about the information used in this chapter! I had no idea about any of this before she told me, so it's all thanks to her that this chapter came to be! Thus why I tell people to share knowledge with me! :) So thank you so much! :D

So, here's the next chapter! I hope you like it, and please review! :D

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"_The euro zone may be suffering from a severe debt crisis that threatens to unravel the currency union, but at least one outsider still wants to join the 17-country club. That would be tiny Iceland, which barely survived a crushing financial crisis in 2008 that blew up its banking system, nearly wiped out the economy and flattened its independent currency, the krona."_

_-Brian Milner, The Globe and Mail, January 23, 2012_

"…_Icelandics are far too stubborn, far too confident in their own economy, and does NOT want to be controlled from Oslo (Norway's capital). [Iceland] won't accept Norway's offers for help... He should be taking those offers as a compliment, really, he's the only Nordic country I can recall Norway doing so much for and being so big-brotherly to."_

_-M. Cullen Hightopp, February 9, 2012_

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Iceland dialed Germany's phone number again, hoping that, this time, he'd actually listen to him. For a while now, he had wanted to join the euro, hoping that it would improve his lackluster economy. Seeing as he almost never got tourists and all of the trials his economy had failed to overcome, he hoped that the euro could help his economy raise enough so he could be financially fit once again. However, Germany and the rest of the euro zone hadn't been paying all that much attention to him. As a matter of fact, they had been telling him _not _to join. They had all said it would be a mistake to join in now with all of this mess going on currently. They didn't want him being sucked into the same problems they were in, but also couldn't afford to take care of him along with everything else. But even with all that they had said, Iceland wanted and needed to join the euro. His economy needed it!

The phone continued to ring in his ear, Iceland hoping for Germany to actually answer and then maybe listen to him. He didn't get his hopes too high, but he was desperate here. He needed all the help he could get at the moment.

"Hello?" Germany answered.

Iceland smiled. "Halló, Germany," he greeted. "Could I please join the euro?"

Germany gave a loud sigh at the other end of the line. "Iceland, how many times do I have to tell you?" he asked, sounding obviously irked. "Don't join the euro right now. We're already dealing with so much, you don't want to join in with all of this chaos."

Iceland slit his light blue eyes, already annoyed. "My economy's bad! It's not like it could get any worse under the euro! Come on, just let me join!"

Germany was about to say something, but Iceland never found out what it was as the line clicked. Iceland looked at the phone, trying to figure out what had happened. Had Germany hung up on him again? He wouldn't be surprised—it wouldn't be the first time. But as he followed the cord of his phone to where it was plugged, he saw something he hadn't been expecting.

The cord was in a hand. Norway's hand.

And Norway was once again getting in the way.

"What the hell, Nor?" Iceland growled, glaring at his Nordic brother. "I told you to back off! I can take care of myself!"

"I see that," Norway murmured, his blue eyes looking unimpressed. "I can tell through your great economy."

Iceland stared daggers at him. "Well, I'm sorry that I'm not as rich or successful as you. Sorry I can't be perfect like you, Nor."

Norway returned the glare, taking a step closer to his little brother. "Ice, I've told you, I can help you. You don't want to join the euro. That's just going to get you in more trouble."

Iceland hissed, turning away from him. "Can everyone stop telling me what I do and don't want? I _want_ to join the euro! I _need_ to join the euro!" He aimed an especially poisonous glare at Norway. "And I _don't_ need your help."

Norway gave Iceland an exceptionally unimpressed look. "I think you do actually. And I think in your condition you should be asking for any help that you can get."

Iceland stood his ground, continuing to glare at Norway. "Why are you intent on helping me anyway? Why do you even care?"

"You don't want to join the euro, little brother," Norway said, Iceland cringing at the title. "It won't just make you worse financially. You'll lose rights. You'll be controlled by them. You won't be able to make your own choices anymore."

"Oh, because I have a huge amount of choices in front of me now!" Iceland growled, balling up his fists. "My currency is worth next to nothing! I'm not getting any revenue! My economy's crashing! Right now, I'm willing to do almost anything, my economy's that desperate!"

Norway took another step closer, forcing Iceland to back away slightly. "Then accept my help, Ice. I'm more than willing to help you. You can use my currency and stop using your worthless krona. I wouldn't even mind taking you in for a while until your economy gets better. I'll do whatever I can to make it so you'll stay out of the euro."

"Why are you trying to help me now?" Iceland hissed. "I've been in trouble for so long, Nor! I needed help, and you and everyone else ignored me! But now that I'm finally looking for help, you're telling me to stop? What the hell?"

"If you remember correctly," Norway said coldly, making Iceland back farther away because of the darkness the words held, "you've been saying that you're an adult who can take care of yourself. You wouldn't have taken our help if it had been offered earlier. Now you're just looking for someone to blame your stupidity on."

No words of defense could come to Iceland now. He hated it so much, but all of the words Norway had just said were true. Iceland for so many years had been constantly telling his Nordic brothers that he was old enough to take care of himself. He had always told them to back off, to leave him alone and deal with his issues his own way. And they had. God damn it, they had.

"I…" Iceland began, but no words came after. He was reduced to just staring at Norway, feeling stupid and weak in his current condition. He had finally been given a chance to prove himself, and he had failed. "I… I don't want your help."

Norway continued to glare at him, an almost indiscernible look of disappointment on his face. "Fine," he muttered, finally backing off. "Just know that my offer is still out there for you to accept." He turned to leave, giving another look over his shoulder. "And also know that I'm going to do whatever I can to keep you out of the EU."

Iceland said nothing as he watched his older brother leave, closing the door hard behind him. Iceland stood still for a few moments, anger and frustration coursing through him. But those emotions quickly faded away, giving into sadness and hopelessness. He pressed his back against the wall, and slowly let himself slide down to the floor, letting his head rest against the hard wall.

He was never going to get out of this mess, was he?

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-sigh- Finally got this done! :D I hope you guys enjoyed it! First time working with the Nordics, so I hope I did okay! Please review! :3


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